


hell couldn't keep me from you

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Demon!Dean, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8308315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: Dean's a demon and heir to the throne of Hell.  Cas is the most likely to take over for his older brother Michael in Heaven.  The two meet by accident, and everything's a mess after that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> based on this prompt from @longkissgoodnightbatmanandtwofac (though I took some liberties with the idea): Dean is the Antichrist. But it's role he never wanted. So he does his best avoid his demon bodyguards and looks for the Christ child. He finds him and his name his Name his Castiel. Dean then protects him from the demons. He and Cas soon fall in love but Dean is reluctant to act on it.
> 
> I only meant to do a quick scene from this world but I ended up fleshing it out a bit more. This is the type of thing that could’ve easily gotten out of hand and gone on and on and on, so I tried to limit myself to a kind of summary story structure. So a lot of details aren’t really fleshed out (like Dean’s family and the whole government systems) but hopefully there’s enough to get the gist of it??
> 
> if you wanna chat or have a prompt for me, come visit me on [tumblr](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com)

Dean’s never wanted the life he was born into.  Even as an infant, a little black eyed bundle of giggles, his life has been organized for him.  He’s shuffled into line for the throne, given his own title and estate, trained to be the next Knight of Hell.  All these plans are laid out for the small boy, all without any thought for what he might want.

Because every demon wants what he has, right?  

That’s what they tell him every time he sneaks away from his bodyguards and ditches his lessons.  When they find him - as they inevitably do - they scold him and tell him how lucky he is.  Tell that he’ll be as powerful as ten ordinary demon one day, and with all that power there’s no end to the havoc he can wreak up on Earth once he’s old enough.

He nods along and parrots back all the right words at all the right times.  All he feels is an itch under his skin, a desire to be free and make his own choices.  But he learns what they teach him.  He learns to cut and burn and twist and torture, to fight and maim and kill because that’s what they tell him he needs to know.  

(There are other things he learns on his own.  When he sneaks into the vast libraries, mostly empty because demons aren’t supposed to read for enjoyment.  He slowly makes his way through the stores of books.  Demon and human and angel literature, he doesn’t discriminate.)

It gets worse as he gets older.  The angels are winning their war that isn’t a war.  They pick at each other’s ranks without any formal declarations, assassins and spies invading Heaven and Hell alike.  One after another, they kill off Azazel and Alastair and Lilith.  Crowley goes missing, and Abaddon tightens her hold on Hell.  

Each day it seems, Dean’s line to the throne grows shorter and shorter until one day he wakes up and there’s nothing between him and kingship but the red-haired queen herself.

That’s when he knows he’ll never be free.

Dreams of someone else taking over and letting him be die and he feels it like a noose around his neck.  Resigned, he lets his teachers drone on and on.  All this shit he pushed aside now are front and center because like it or not, he’ll be king one of these days.  

And then they start teaching him about the angels.

It’s boring, not unlike most of what his schooling.  The line to their throne is as convoluted as their own.  Michael rules with an iron fist, and there are factions upon factions each making a claim of their own.  The names wash over him, meaningless even when paired with the blurry grainy photos their agents have provided.  The only one that catches his eye is the picture of a brown-haired boy around his own age.

With a practiced disinterest, he pretends not to care as his tutors tell him about Castiel.  The most favored of Michael’s brothers, the one most likely to be named successor.  He’s so enraptured with staring at the boy that he almost misses the casual way they tell him, “It is, of course, likely that he’ll be killed before he ascends the throne.”

And then they move on as though they hadn’t spelled out a young boy’s death in blood.

“Wait, what?”

The demon’s eyes narrow and flick black at the interruption before he remembers himself and who he’s speaking to.  “Abaddon is assembling a task force to kill him.  There’s also a bounty on his head for any demon to claim should they manage it.”

“Why?  He’s just a kid.”

“He’s nearly nineteen, more than old enough to take over and rule on his own should anything happen to Michael.”

“Okay, but-”

The tutor scowls at him, annoyed at the interrupted lesson.  “She feels it will create chaos in Heaven to remove such a promising heir to the throne.”  And with that they move on.  Except Dean doesn’t move on.  A plan (a stupid, crazy, suicidal plan) is forming in his head.  

Finally, a chance to rebel.

\- - - -

It’s surprisingly easy to trick the angel out of Heaven.  Angels can’t hear the prayers of demons, not normally, but there are spells that remove the taint of Hell from their words.  As soon as Dean thinks he’s ditched his guards and put enough distance between himself and Hell, he sets up shop in a dingy motel room and sets to work.  

With the spell in place, he prays for the first time.

“Castiel, who art in Heaven, presumably… I could really use your help with something down here Earth side, so if you could find in your time to come chat-”

The lights flicker and there’s a slight _whoosh_.  He looks around to try and find the angel.  Turning around, he sees movement and the shadow of wings on the wall before he’s knocked flat on his ass with his arms pinned above him.

“Ow!  What the fuck, man?” he growls up at a pair of angry blue eyes.

“You’re a demon and you’re kidnapping me,” the angel explains, though he seems to be less than sure about that assessment.

“We’ll, you’re half right.”

They stay like that, the angel straddling him to hold him down while Dean tries his best to look unimpressed.  Eventually the angel’s hold loosens and he stands up.  Even offers a hand to Dean to help him back to his feet.

“What do you want?” the boy asks cautiously.  Despite his obvious mistrust, he’s still invading Dean’s personal space.  It makes it hard to get a good look at him - this is the first angel Dean’s ever seen this close, before at best he saw them from a distance in the torture chambers - but he still marvels at the dark wings and bright halo just barely tucked away in another wavelength.  

~~Dean can’t decide if he likes it or not.~~

~~He tries not to think about what the other boy sees when he looks at him.  Can he see his hooves and black eyes?~~

“Would you believe I’m uh… I’m rescuing you?”

Eyebrows rise but nothing else changes in the angel’s expression.  Rolling his eyes, Dean tells him everything.  Well, a highly edited version of everything.  He doesn’t see the point of talking about how bored his studies make him and how little he wants the throne.  Sure, he _hints_ at those things, but he figures the angel doesn’t care.  So he focuses on Abaddon’s plans, on the conspiracy to murder him.  And Dean’s grand solution of the two of them going on the run.

“Why can’t I just go back to Heaven?  Wouldn’t it be safer there?”  At some point during the explanation, Castiel relaxed a little.  He’s no longer crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive stance, but sitting down on the edge of the motel bed looking downright _trusting_ and Dean just doesn’t know what to do with that.  

“Abaddon’s got agents in Heaven.  And not just demons.  There are some angels working for her too.  And since I don’t know _who_ , I can’t warn you who’s safe to trust and who’s not.”

“So my choices are either go back home and trust my life to no one, or stay on Earth and trust my life to _you_.”

“Uh yeah, basically.  I mean, when you put it like that-”

“Alright.”

Dean visibly startles a bit at that.  “What?  Just like that?”

Castiel doesn’t meet his eyes for a moment, but when he does they’re open and sincere.  “There are plenty in Michael’s court I don’t trust.  Now that I have a confirmation, I’d prefer not to go back into the viper’s nest just yet.”

And like that it they’re fugitives from their homes, trusting in the enemy.

\- - - -

They move around often, never staying anywhere more than a day.  They don’t have money, but Dean’s an excellent thief and Castiel’s surprisingly gifted at pool.  Somehow it works, this demon and this angel.  Their truce is built upon a desire to keep Castiel alive, though for different reasons (though Dean’s starting to question how much longer he’ll be able to use _spite_ as an excuse).  Slowly, as the days pass into untold weeks, that changes.

Little by little they open up more and more to each other.  It’s not all business, but a tentative friendship that Dean comes to realize is the _only_ friendship he’s ever had.  And then the reasons shift as well.  He’s not rebelling as a fuck you to Hell and Abaddon.  Because back when that was what drove him, he didn’t _really_ care if Cas lived or died.  Keeping Cas alive was a game.  

Now, though, as he looks into deep blue eyes that he drowns in a little more each day, he knows he’d die for Cas.  Not to piss of anyone, but simply to keep the other boy alive.

\- - - -

They’re on the run for nearly a year, much longer than Dean thought they’d get, when it happens.  

Castiel sits on the bed next to him, a smidge too close.  Their arms brush and Dean shivers at the contact.  There’s something in the air, the electric potential of that moment making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.  Cas turns to look at him, head tilted slightly down so he has to look up through his lashes, and Dean’s a goner.

It was probably inevitable, he tells himself that first night when Cas’ naked body is wrapped in his.  Two teenage boys always in each other’s space.  Hormones and whatnot, of course they’d fall into bed together.  Because then it’s not his fault he fell for an angel.  He’s a victim of circumstance instead of the fool who’s in love with the enemy.

At least that’s his excuse as he rests his head on Cas’ chest and listens to his inhuman heart beat, lulled asleep by the melody.

\- - - - 

Castiel teases him because his eyes shine black when he comes.  Dean grumbles that at least his don’t glow blue.  Neither takes the blame for the broken lightbulbs or cracks in the ceiling, but since neither remembers who caused it, they can’t accuse the other either.

\- - - -

They make it sixteen months before they’re taken by surprise.  Apparently their little excursion has earned Hell and Heaven from their pissing match.  They manage to avoid the group of demons in the parking lot only to run into the group of angels in their motel room.  Dean clouds their vision with a spell, one long-ago perfected when he needed to escape his tutors and guards, while Cas grabs hold of him and flies them two states over.

It doesn’t matter.  They have their trail and there’s no amount of running that’ll save them now.

Cas is agitated that whole night, knowing full well that their time together is up.  Dean assumes he’s nervous about returning to Heaven with no clear idea of whom to trust.  It doesn’t occur to him that there might be something else.

For possibly the last time, they sleep together.  They tend to be frenzied, rutting against each other and gasping for air until they come, but this time they go slow.  Undress each other and kiss each exposed inch of skin.  And for once they whisper words of endearments and praise, low and breathless.

Dean falls asleep afterward, sated enough that he’s able to keep his worries for tomorrow at bay.  With Cas tucked under his chin, it’s hard to really care.

He has a funny dream that night, where Cas is no longer in his arms but standing over him with an angel blade drawn.  Even in the dream it makes no sense, the idea that Castiel would hurt him so laughable that he smirks up at the angel with a lopsided grin and half-opened eyes.  With heavy limbs he beckons the angel back to bed.  

The angel moves as though to stab him, but instead sighs and lowers the blade.  Two fingers come up to his forehead, along with a low command.  “Sleep, Dean.”

He does.

\- - - -

Maybe he should be more surprised to find out he wakes up alone.  Cas’ side of the bed has long cooled down and there’s no trace of his scant possessions anywhere in the room.  

~~He starts to think that maybe it wasn’t a dream, but the thought sickens him.~~

There’s a note scribbled onto a sheet of paper in Castiel’s normally elegant hand.  

_Dean,_

_Had to go.  I’m sorry.  It wasn’t all a lie._

_\- Castiel_

He’s feeling listless and doesn’t bother doing more than get dressed.  He sits on the bed staring at the wall and waiting.  Numbness takes the place where shock should be when it’s Benny with the rest of his bodyguards in tow.  

Without a word or protest, he lets them escort him back to hell.  Benny tells him all about the chase and the chaos his disappearance left behind.  The scramble for control to fill in the missing gap in the chain of command.  Abaddon’s struggle to maintain power and the brutality with which she tried to do so.  The resources she expended trying to find him, to use him as a solution.

And the whispers of rumors that Benny tells him when the other guards aren’t around.  That she needed him back in Hell or his dead body to quiet the would be usurpers.  Even as she sent Benny and his men to work together with the angels to track down the two heirs apparent, there was always this unspoken threat that they’d as soon kill Dean as turn him over to the demons.

~~The implications that Castiel would help them with this, that the angel meant all along to kill him, go unspoken.  They haunt Dean no less in their silence.~~

\- - - -

There are moments, when he’s feeling weak, that he wants to set up the enchantments and cast the spell necessary for an angel to hear his prayers.  But he doesn’t.  He can’t.

\- - - -

Abaddon looks almost disappointed when Dean’s dragged into the throne room.  With a flick of her wrist he’s dismissed, sent back to his chambers and put under lock and key until he can show he’s not a flight risk.  For once in his life, he’s not.

He does as he’s told.  Goes to his lessons and trains like he’s supposed to.  Forces himself to be the best student he can be.  And as Abaddon grows more and more paranoid, something left over from Dean’s time on Earth, he fills in the gaps of her rule.  He attends the functions and speaks to the people and handles more and more of the crown’s responsibilities.

Luckily Abaddon doesn’t realize the threat until it’s too late.  When Dean claims the throne for himself - something he never wanted but now _needs_ , just to be free - Abaddon hisses and calls him a traitor.  But treachery is a matter of opinion, and with all of Hell behind him, history will remember it otherwise.  She puts up a fight, of course she does, but her brutality doesn’t make her as efficient at killing as Dean’s become.  

They put her head on a spike outside the palace, a warning and reminder and a promise.  

Dean takes no joy in the throne.  It’s a burden he’s managed these last few years since returning to Hell, but he never wanted the power or glory of it.  His first act is to scale back hostilities against the angels.  The spies stay in place, the network grows, but the assassins sit idly.  

(Unless of course the angels, in an attempt to turn the tide of the non war in their favor, attempt to kill his people or members of his court.  Then Dean is ruthless in exacting his revenge.  He’s still a demon after all, and an eye for an eye is hardly equal to what his people want.  But they’re soothed by the bloody shows of it, the angels crucified for their pleasure.)

That is until he sees an opportunity.  His best agent has an in that is too juicy to ignore.  After careful planning, he gives the order.

\- - - -

It happens days after Castiel is officially named heir.  Michael turns up dead in his chambers.  The angels need a show of strength right now so as not to let Hell or (god forbid) Earth take advantage.  Castiel is quickly coronated and any dissenters are quietly managed.

Dean sends word that he wants to meet with this new King of Heaven to discuss a more permanent peace treaty.  He will personally attend and he expects Castiel to do the same.  He’s very specific in naming the time and the location.

Benny looks at him quizzically, but doesn’t comment.

He’s relatively unarmed and his retinue of followers is light.  They mill about the motel grounds, eyeing the humans warily and fingering their blades.  They twitch and every unexpected noise.  It’s almost comical, given that when the angels appear with a familiar _whoosh_ half the demons there jump and fall over.

Castiel is older.  Obviously.  Dean was aware of that, had photographic evidence snuck down to him by his spies, but seeing it firsthand is jarring.  He’s taller and more muscular.  His hair’s still a mess and his eyes are the same blue that haunts Dean’s dreams.  His wings are larger too.  As he himself has grown up, Dean’s become better at picking out the glimmering details of angels, just hidden out of his plane of existence.  And those dark feathers are glorious.  Oh how he longs to run his hands through them-

He clears his throat to chase away the thought.  “Can we talk?”  He gestures towards an open door.  “Alone.”

The angels tense - Castiel included - but the new king tilts his head to the side.  “I’m not sure if that’s wise, Dean.”

“Last time we were here, wasn’t it you who almost killed me?  I feel like you kinda owe me one.”

Castiel’s eyes harden slightly, but he nods in agreement.  The angels mutter protests, but one look from Cas silences them.  They can’t afford to question their king in front of the enemy.  

The angel goes in first.  Dean closes the door behind him.  

“It’s the same room,” Castiel comments.  No trace of emotion, nothing to give away how he feels about being back in the place they last saw each other.

Never one to be cautious, Dean spins Cas around and smothers him in a kiss.  His fingers tingle as they trace along the lines of his wings, still out of reach in another dimension but close enough that he can _almost_ feel their weight.  Castiel’s muffled cry is swallowed by Dean’s lips, and then it’s no longer surprise but pleased longing taking over.  

They never dressed so splendidly as teenagers on the run, so it takes a while to get off all the layers.  Dean wants to take it slow and re-learn all the curves of Castiel’s body, but he’s too eager and too touch starved to last.  They barely make it to the bed before he has them both in hand, stroking and pulling such delicious noises from the angel.  

He ends up on top and he does his best to keep his eyes on Castiel (though occasionally they flick down to see their hard cocks pressed together, leaking precome).  The angel whimpers and clutches at his arms, his back, his chest.  Traces along Dean’s face and then the base of his horns.  

“Come on, angel,” Dean teases.  “You don’t wanna come for me anymore?”

“Dean-” but the rest of his choked out plea is lost as he comes over their hands.  

Dean starts thrusting into his hand until he’s lost as well, collapsing on Castiel and their spent seed.  Cas huffs under the weight of him but doesn’t protest.  A languid rubs along the small of Dean’s back, but otherwise they simply try to catch their breaths.

When he’s recollected himself, Dean creates some space.  He leans on his forearms, looking down at his fucked out angel.  He can’t help but dip down to kiss him again.  After lazily making out, Dean pulls away.  With willpower he hasn’t had to exert in some time, he forces himself to do what he came here to do.  What he explicitly planned to do the moment he decided to take on the crown.

“Marry me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cas says yes, obviously, because he loves his demon. With the Kings of Heaven and Hell married, it's easy for them to clean up the centuries old war between their kingdoms.


End file.
